THE PRAYER OF ONE DISTURBED
By GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS
Like the leader in a frightened flock, with the clouds gathering fast and the day darkening, and the win growing furious— that is the way I feel, God, and so I have rushed to You who are able and full of understanding.
Gather me to You in Your strong arms, God. Nobody is around—just You and Your frail creation. I am so disturbed. This impulsive makeup has overstepped itself. In its anxiety to climb just a little higher, do a little more good, find a little more beauty, it ran too fast—and so now it's all mixed up—frightened like the troubled sheep.
But, like the Shepherd of the sheep, whose soul is always stronger than the instinct of the dumb which He tends, please, God, pay attention to me!
Soothe with Your understanding warm, with Your sympathy, lift up with Your love. You see, God, I really need you more than I even knew myself.
For the frightened never quite realize their danger. If they did, they might be braver. But, being confused, and much lost to themselves, they flounder, and then have to run to someone who is strong enough to bring them back to themselves—and place them upon higher ground. Don't You see, God? And don't You see that this pleader is the one who needs so greatly?
Press me just a trifle tighter to Your heart, God. Let me feel the impulse of Your superior spirit. Quiet this throbbing pulse and give sleep to these restless nerves.
Be a mother to me, during this darkened spell, God. I need to be mothered. After that I can go back into the world and be a man. Strong—and unafraid.
But right now, I am a boy, with all the confusion of conflicting doubts and beliefs, full of ache, hungry in heart, ignorant in spirit.
Please, God, take care of this flounderer of Yours!